The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 422

Elaine waved her hands frantically.

"I want you to help him. After all these years, I've seen every effort he has made for this. That person is like a thorn buried deep in his heart, and he won't stop until he finds her."

Vivian studied the young woman in front of her. She wasn't very old, but her eyes already held a wealth of stories. The sheer fact that she could hold back her tears in a moment like this proved she was no ordinary girl.

If it were anyone else, they would have started complaining and crying foul long ago.

"You... really do love him."

That was the only conclusion Vivian could draw.

But it stopped exactly there.

"I do." Elaine looked down, her smile laced with endless bitterness. "But what good does love do? I know that the moment she returns, the name Marcus Vaughan will have nothing to do with me ever again. He'll do whatever it takes to keep her."

That man was a born king, yet no matter the circumstances, he would only ever lose his composure for that one specific person.

Elaine didn't want to admit it, but she had no choice.

In her darkest moments, she even wished that woman was dead.

But even if she were dead...

She still wouldn't be able to compete with a ghost.

Today was a nerve-wracking day for Marcus, but wasn't it the same for her? She was terrified he would find Darcy, yet equally terrified he wouldn't.

Human beings were such bizarre creatures.

Her emotions were teetering on the edge of collapse from the constant, agonizing back-and-forth.

Seeing Elaine bury her face in her hands, Vivian grabbed a tissue and handed it over. She didn't know how to comfort people, especially women trapped in the throes of unrequited love.

Still...

"Elaine."

Her tone wasn't exactly persuasive; she was simply stating facts. "You're still young. Your future has millions of possibilities. Why do you have to hang yourself on a tree like Marcus? Even if Darcy wasn't in the picture, objectively speaking, he's not a good choice."

Marcus was paranoid, arrogant, and never listened to a word of advice from anyone.

If he were to become a husband, it would probably be no different from marrying a tyrant.

—Of course.

He took one look at her. Her fair face was unusually pale, and her eyes lacked their usual spark.

"What did she say to you to make you so upset?"

Vivian looked up at him. "You can actually tell when I'm upset?"

"Considering you're upset quite often, yes."

...

"Alright."

Silas stroked her hair. "Are you hungry? Should I have them send up some food?"

Vivian stepped closer, pressing herself against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him again, her red lips parting as she murmured softly, "I don't want to eat. I'm too sad to have an appetite. You need to comfort me."

It wasn't exactly acting spoiled.

But her tone today was different from usual; she seemed genuinely defeated by something.

Silas frowned, reaching down to tilt her chin up. "What's wrong? Tell me."